LITERATURE: Ficciones – The Circular Ruins

I’ve read this short story twice and still feel that I’m missing something and just don’t have it quite right.

The story is about a man who travels to a site of what was once a sacred spot dedicated to the gods, now ruined by fire and neglect.  The man’s purpose is to create a man by dreaming him complete.  First he tries to select someone from a crowd via questioning those in the arena, and this bit of wisdom comes out:

He was seeking a soul worthy of participating in the universe.  After nine or ten nights he understood with a certain bitterness that he could expect nothing from those pupils who accepted his doctrine passiveley, but that he could expect something from those who occasionally dared to oppose him.  The former group, although worthy of love and affection, could not ascend to the level of individuals; the latter pre-existed to a slightly greater degree. (p. 58)

When in his dreams he eliminates all but one student, he continues for but a short time before the dreams stop and he is left with nothing.  He takes a new tactic, that of building the individual organ by organ, bone by bone.  With the help of the god at whose temple he sleeps and dreams, he by this means is able to complete his project, promising the "son" to the god with the god’s promise that this young man never know that he is not real. 

The man is sad for the inevitable loss of his created man, yet happy with the satisfaction of having created him.  Eventually he hears of the youth’s travels and dedication at the temple of fire where he was destined to go, and the man walks willingly into a fire that destroys the circular ruin where he has remained.

The obvious theme is the cycle of life, the circular temples, certain phrases Borges uses to lead us inn this direction:

At times he was disturbed by the impression that all this had already happened… (p. 61)

The purpose of his life had been fulfilled. (p. 62)

For what happened many centuries before was repeating itself. (p. 63)

In many ways too, it goes into other paths of thought.  There is the desire of mankind to reproduce to insure eternal life.  There is also the question asked by the final sentence:

With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he also was an illusion, that someone else was dreaming him. (p. 63)

Borges here, in the midst of his magical realism, leaves us with the doubt of our own existence.  With that comes our perspective, our purpose, our trust in knowledge and history.  A very thought-provoking little story that can be taken many ways and though we may come up with loads of answers–and likely even more questions–there is still the very real possibility that we will never grasp the patterns of Borges’ own thoughts in this story.